


Muse

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dystopia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mirror Universe, Neglect, Oral Sex, PWP, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps out of boredom or perhaps to test Spock's loyalty, Captain Kirk plays a cruel game on his first officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pavel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acaranna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acaranna/gifts).



> A/N: For my friend ‘Ranna, who asked for: “Mirror!Jim acts like a total ass towards Spock, like ignoring him, refusing to acknowledge him, preferring others instead of him ... only to hurt the poor Vulcan and make him even needier for his touch and attention?”
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a little because Jim’s curious about loyalty and a lot because he’s bored. His first officer would follow him to the ends of the universe—he knows that implicitly. Spock’s never been involved in any assassination attempts—in fact, he’s spoiled several and saved Jim’s life on a number of occasions. Spock’s docile and perfectly well behaved; he’ll do everything he’s ordered to without complaint. 

But, Jim can’t help but wonder, is that duty or _desire_? Perhaps he’s just comfortable with his position aboard the Empire’s flagship. Too comfortable. Either way, his motives shouldn’t matter. Underlings’ never do. Perhaps because Jim’s on a particularly long and mind-numbing deep space mission at the moment, this one matters. 

Jim sometimes wonders if Spock would still be so well behaved were he not the favourite, and the best way to do that is to abruptly dethrone him. When Spock first walks onto the bridge in the morning, carrying a PADD stiffly behind his back, he says, “Good morning, Captain,” and Jim doesn’t answer. 

This earns him two raised eyebrows. A few minutes pass, and Spock clears his throat. He’s never been ignored by Jim before. He tries again, stepping right up beside the captain’s chair, “Good morning, Captain.”

Jim grunts noncommittally and keeps his eyes forward, face unresponsive. Out the corner of his eye, he can see Spock struggle to maintain the same lack of expression. There’s no logical reason for this, other than Jim’s own personal amusement. They’re silent for a little while as the bridge buzzes with the usual beeps and flickers of light, stars passing the window. 

Then Spock asks levelly (but Jim knows him better than that and hears the uncertainty), “Captain, have I displeased you in some way?”

Jim barks, “Chekov, come sit in your captain’s lap.”

* * *

Spock sits at Jim’s feet like he does when he’s being punished, even though Jim didn’t ask him to. Jim’s completely ignoring him. Jim has a lap full of cute Russian, which keeps squirming to try and get comfortable. Jim only allows that because he enjoys the way the ensign’s tight rear feels brushing against his tented crotch, and his arms hold Chekov in all the tighter for it. Chekov’s back is against his stomach. Jim’s head rests on Chekov’s thin shoulder, cheek tickled by his curly hair. He smells like honey and strawberries: an easy conquest.

Jim waits until he catches Spock’s eyes flickering over to him, and then he leans forward and nibbles Chekov’s ear. Chekov blushes, but only moves closer into it. “Can you work like this, Ensign?” Jim purrs. 

Chekov nods weakly. His PADD is in his hands, but his fingers are trembling around it. “Y-yes, keptain...”

“Good.” Jim nips his way down Chekov’s smooth neck, and Chekov gasps and tilts his head aside, giving Jim more access. Jim stretches the neck hole of his yellow shirt all the way down his shoulder, splitting seams. Chekov squeezes his arm in closer to help, making himself seem even smaller. “You know,” Jim sighs, tracing Chekov’s warm thighs with his hands. “I always thought you had the best body on my bridge...”

Chekov stammers, “Zh-zhank you, keptain,” as though he’s never heard a better compliment in his life. It isn’t even true. Spock looks _glorious_ naked, but Spock doesn’t need to know that. Jim can see Spock’s pointed ears twitching slightly, probably burning. 

The PADD is in the way, so Jim lightly taps the bottom, and Chekov lifts it up, giving more room to play. Jim spreads Chekov’s thighs to show off his crotch, clearly aroused, though even indented, the bulge still looks so small next to Jim’s. Jim massages it playfully, and Chekov’s head falls back on his shoulder. Chekov’s gasping, wet lips open wide. 

“Sulu,” Jim croons, because they’re in the middle of nowhere and there’s no need for his helmsmen to have his eyes on the proverbial road. “Don’t you think this is the best piece of ass on the bridge?” To give a fair view, Jim scrunches up Chekov’s shirt, rolling it up his chest. It hooks underneath his armpits, just barely exposing his rosy nipples. Jim reaches around to trace them and rub them in little circles, making Chekov croon into him. 

Sulu nods instantly. They always must agree with the captain. But he’d probably agree anyway, given the way his eyes are ogling Chekov’s lithe frame. Jim reaches back down to grab Chekov’s crotch, and he uses the grip to grind Chekov’s taut ass into his own cock. Jim nods Sulu away and goes back to biting at Chekov’s pale throat, tilting his head aside like a vampire. Chekov whimpers so deliciously: the perfect victim.

But he tries to work, too, and that just makes him so much more adorable. Jim reaches into the front of Chekov’s pants to grab his little cock, squeezing it tight and purring into Chekov’s ear, “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be working so hard. Not that I don’t appreciate you trying to be a good officer for me, but your time would probably be better spent on my cock...”

Chekov’s eyes flutter rapturously as he leans his head back, and he practically moans, “Whatewer pleases you, keptain...”

Jim chuckles, tugging Chekov’s left nipple with his other hand. The boy has such a sweet body, and he’s so easy to play. Jim decides leisurely, “I think I’d like that...” And he looks pointedly down at Spock, who’s watching him with sharp eyes. Jim adds, “After all, I haven’t had a _good fuck_ in ages.”

Spock visibly winces. Jim’s taken him several times this week alone, hard and rough and, as far as Spock probably thought, always _good_.

More than good. Fantastic, actually. But Jim prefers to pretend otherwise while he rolls Chekov’s uniform pants down his ass, admiring the round globes that spill out. Chekov cutely tries to use the PADD to cover himself, but Jim pulls it out of his hands and tosses it to the floor, barking without looking, “Put that away, Mr. Spock.”

Spock says, “Yes, Captain,” in a very conflicted voice. He moves from Jim’s feet, but Jim doesn’t bother keeping track of him. Right now, Jim focuses on shoving those tight pants down more, until they’re halfway down Chekov’s thighs, along with Chekov’s underwear. His pink cock rests, already fully hard, between his thighs, the base just barely covered in a sprinkling of curly brown fur. Jim lets Chekov cover himself with his hands, because that’s not the part Jim wants anyway. In the back of his mind, Jim wonders if Chekov’s ever been taken before. 

Not that that would matter to a person of Jim’s rank. He can take what he wants, and if he wants a young virgin with a nice ass wriggling in his lap, that’s exactly what he’ll have. He doesn’t normally prepare his victims, but since Chekov has such a pretty mouth, Jim orders, “Open up, Ensign.”

Chekov doesn’t hesitate. He parts his lips and sticks his tongue out, like a dog begging for treats. Jim shoves three fingers in and says, “Suck.” Chekov’s lips snap shut, and he sucks eagerly, tongue running all over them. Jim pistons them lightly in and out while he uses his free hand to wriggle down his fly and pull his cock out, full and ready. He rubs it between Chekov’s cheeks while Chekov sucks, and the noises Chekov makes around his fingers are pure gold. 

Why doesn’t he fuck Chekov more often? It’s so easy. He laughs audibly when he remembers; oh yes, he normally has Spock. 

Spock is now back at Jim’s feet, looking sullen under his Vulcan mask. He’s staring doggedly forward, as though his favourite captain isn’t fucking someone else right in front of him. 

Jim slips his fingers out of Chekov’s mouth, tracing a wet trail down his body and around his sides, down between his cheeks. His little puckered hole feels so _tiny_ under Jim’s finger, and he rubs it repeatedly, pressing in. When his first finger pops inside, Spock drowns out Chekov’s gasp by saying dryly, “Captain, perhaps it would be wise to have a navigator at the helm?”

Jim could order Spock to do that. He could order Lieutenant Darwin to do that. He could order anyone to, really. 

Instead, he flat out ignores Spock, kissing Chekov’s neck while he slips in a second finger, stretching Chekov wide cruelly fast. Chekov’s a good boy and doesn’t complain, even though he’s whimpering like it hurts. It probably does. Jim isn’t that careful. He only stretches Chekov enough so that his cock will fit, and then he pulls out to get ready.

Chekov’s light as a feather. Jim lifts him up by the hips, asking, “Ready?”

Chekov whines impatiently, “Please, sir...” And Jim drops him down. 

Chekov’s scream is exquisite. It’s not Spock’s. But it’s loud enough and desperate enough to draw the attention of the entire bridge, and Jim keeps a firm grip on Chekov’s waist to hold him down and draw it out. Chekov’s incredibly, almost impossibly tight. With a bit of pushing, though, he sinks all the way to the base, taking all of Jim’s mammoth cock. Jim puts his arm across Chekov’s upper back, forcing him to arch out, so there’s a clear line of vision down to his greedy ass. Jim spreads Chekov’s cheeks wide, watching the way his cock plunders Chekov’s pretty hole. 

Then he picks Chekov up, only to drop him down immediately after, then bucks him back up. Chekov makes another high pitch whining sound, face flushed and eyes half lidded, pupils eating up his irises. He’s trying to cover his cock with his hands, but it’s clear he’s hard underneath them. Of course he is. Jim’s an expert at fucking, and he pounds into Chekov like a bull. Chekov bounces like a rabbit. He pants and he whimpers and he murmurs things in Russian, probably obscenities. He looks like an Orion slave—but an expensive one, trained and polished. A collared pet. 

He isn’t Spock. But he would look good chained to Jim’s bed, and Jim lets his hands roll all over his ensign’s body while the magic happens. He lets himself get lost in the sensation, and he devours every centimeter of Chekov’s exposed skin, leaving marks and licking them over. Chekov will probably wear them like badges of honour tomorrow: proof his captain noticed him.

Chekov comes first, right into his hands. He blushes thickly, screaming, “Keptain,” and his voice is so breathy and erotic that Jim’s cock twitches violently in want. Chekov’s ass spasms wildly around Jim’s cock, while Chekov gasps and gasps, spilling into his own fingers. 

When he’s done, Jim grabs his wrists and pulls them up, shoving them to Chekov’s mouth and making Chekov lick up his own cum. The sight of Chekov’s little pink tongue cleaning between his fingers makes it too much for Jim to handle, and he bites fiercely into Chekov’s shoulder, spilling deeply into his tight body. Chekov grimaces and whimpers, but that turns into a moan when Jim’s seed starts to fill him. Jim only lets go when he knows Chekov will need medical attention to get rid of that bite mark. 

Then he has to pick Chekov up and off him, because an ass that tight is almost painful to a not-fully-hard cock, and Jim’s thoroughly satiated. He deposits Chekov lower in his lap, checking how much cum is left on his dick. Enough to bother making Spock lick it up. 

Except that Jim’s ignoring Spock, so he tucks himself back into his pants with a satisfied smirk. Chekov looks timidly over his shoulder, and Jim pushes him off, deciding offhandedly, “You should go see Bones to make sure I didn’t damage you too much to use next time.”

Chekov nods. He only gets up when Jim indicates it with a nod, and then he pulls his pants back up. He’s about to roll his shirt back down when Jim decides, “Leave that.”

Chekov nods and steps towards the door. He stops. He turns and mumbles, cheeks aflame, “Zhank you, keptain.” Then he runs off towards the turbolift, limping a little. 

Jim chuckles at his own prowess. He turns fully trained officers to mush in one fuck, even if this particular one was just a kid. He can see Spock out the corner of his eye, still determinedly staring ahead. 

“Perhaps I should’ve let you lick his ass out,” Jim says casually. “You’ll be missing my cum, I’m sure.”

Spock doesn’t respond. Jim goes back to ignoring him.

* * *

They’re in the turbolift at the end of their shift. Jim’s headed to the mess hall. Spock’s headed to... wherever it is Spock goes when he can’t trail Jim around. 

Spock suddenly orders, “Stop,” to the turbolift, and it does. He takes his hand off the handle and turns to Jim, saying, “Captain, I implore you to explain why—”

“Turn around,” Jim says over him. 

There’s a tiny note of hurt in Spock’s voice. “Captain...” He’s trying to stand as tall as possible. 

Finally looking sideways, Jim says in a complete deadpan, “Turn around and face the wall.” Like he’s giving a child a detention. 

Spock turns slowly around and stays there for the duration of the ride. His head is inclined several centimeters lower than usual. 

Jim’s having a power trip that goes straight to his cock. He’s a genius.


	2. Leonard

Spock is still getting his medical exam when Jim comes in for his, right in the middle. Bones has Spock in a private room off to the side. Spock’s sitting on the table with his shirt off, pale muscles illuminated in the light of Bones’ whirling scanner. He looks up when Jim comes in, but Jim ignores him and walks straight to Bones, smirking. “Time for my physical?”

A grin twitches at the edge of Bones’ lips. Jim’s already pulling his shirt over his head. Jim always avoids his exams, so even though it’s not his turn yet, he knows there’s no way Bones would turn him aside. Especially when he’s in the middle of stripping. 

Jim drops his shirt to the floor, kicking it away, and unzips his pants. Bones tosses his scanner onto the bed and turns to Spock, probably to tell him to leave, but Jim grabs Bones by the collar of his shirt and jerks him back around, smashing their lips together before that can happen. Bones lets out a muffled grunt of surprise, but a second later, he’s _on_ Jim, his tongue forcefully down Jim’s throat, a thigh between Jim’s legs. Jim moans into the kiss and grabs Bones’ hair, running through it and tugging Bones in for more. Bones’ stubble prickles along Jim’s chin, but it’s a good kind of scratch. Bones is a little bit taller than him and a little bit broader, a little bit stronger and a lot older, but Jim’s the captain, and he lets Bones back him up to the table before he straights. He grabs a fistful of Bones’ hair at the front, jerking Bones’ face back. 

Spock’s slipped off the table at some point. He’s standing in front of the doors, but they’re not sliding open. 

Spock taps the console at the side, and Jim drawls at Spock’s back, “I suppose it’s jammed. You’ll just have to sit back on that exam table and wait until your genius captain decides to look at it.”

Spock glances over his shoulders. He says completely blankly, “Yes, Captain.”

“Don’t talk,” Jim replies, and then he turns back to Bones, slamming their mouths back together. He doesn’t stop frantically making out until Spock’s sitting back down where he started, and then Jim starts muttering between kisses, “Bones... Bones, how long have I known you...?”

Bones leans back, grinding his leg hard into Jim’s crotch. “Longer than anyone on the ship,” he says proudly. He’s looking at Jim with a wild ferocity. It’s been busy on this starship, and there hasn’t been much time for them to fool around up until now. When they were in the Academy, they were on each other’s cocks nightly. It was never anything like dating. But it was hot and all over and constant, and Bones is a rough fuck with a backpack of kinks and a cock to match. If only Jim had started this back in Bones’ quarters, where all the toys are...

Instead, he focuses on the softer side of things, taunting Spock with _emotional_ dialogue. Jim runs his hand lazily down Bones’ chest, purring, “You’ve been fucking me the longest, too. Know me inside and out, I bet. We’ve always been very... close...”

“Thick as thieves, kid,” Bones growls, grinning like a lion. “I know you like the back a’ my hand, better than any of these other idiots.”

“My most trusted officer,” Jim chuckles. He leans forward to peck Bones on the lips, pushing Bones back a second later when he tries to thrust his tongue back into Jim’s mouth. 

Jim’s pants are unzipped, but still hanging loosely around his hips. His fingers fall to the hem of Bones’ pants while Bones runs smooth palms down his chest. Jim isn’t going to strip his doctor whole, and he leans in to explain in an erotic whisper, “You know, I don’t think I want to share my closest, dearest friend, my favourite officer, and my sexy as fuck doctor with your former patient, so you won’t mind if I keep all this under wraps, will you?”

Raising his eyebrows, Bones snorts, “You can’t handle all this anyway; I can understand why you wouldn’t want other officers to see that.”

Jim mock-scowls. Bones is the only one he’d take that sort of lip from, and he shoves lightly at Bone’s chest before unzipping Bones’ pants just enough to reach in and pull out his cock. Bones grunts in appreciation. Jim maneuvers it past the fabric, holding the monstrously large organ in his hand, warm and pulsing. His fingers barely fit around it. Bones has that stupid smirk on his face, like he always does when he gets to show off his massive cock. If Chekov were to climb onto it, he’d probably break in two. 

Getting Bones onto the floor is always a tricky matter. If Jim orders him, he’ll get cranky, but Jim’s a captain and doesn’t like to start submissive. He compromises by crouching down and gesturing next to him. Bones begrudgingly sinks to his knees, and Jim stretches down the rest of the way, taking up most of the empty, white, hard floor. The tile’s cold against his bare back, but he rolls onto his side so it’s touching less skin. He props his head up with his hand and purrs, “I think you should join me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bones chuckles.

Licking his lips in a very obvious way, Jim purrs, “I promise you’ll have fun if you oblige.”

Today, Bones must be hornier than he is grumpy. Because he gets slowly down to the floor, muttering, “I’m a doctor, not a carpet.”

“You’re whatever the fuck I want you to be if you want your cock in my mouth,” Jim laughs. “And stop saying that sort of shit; it’s getting old.”

Bones reaches over Jim to smack his ass, earning a yelp. “Who you callin’ old?”

Jim rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother responding. He’s busy lining the two of them up, snuggling up to Bones’ crotch and thrusting his hips into Bones’ face. Bones slaps his ass again and grumbles at him, but Jim ignores it. He’s got Bone’s cock in his face, and it looks even bigger this close up. Jim already knows it’s not going to fit in his mouth. Even if he does sleep around, he doesn’t suck cock all that much—he makes other people suck him. 

Jim glances up once out the corner of his eye, saying all in that one look that _Bones_ and he are _so close_ , and Jim cares about _Bones_ enough that he would _suck Bones’ cock,_ right on the floor in sickbay. Jim wants to get a proper look and see if there’s jealousy boiling over in Spock’s eyes, but instead he stares forward the rest of the time at the magnificent dick pointing straight at him. 

He opens his mouth, and Bones instantly thrusts in. Jim splutters and has to grab Bone’s hip, mock-glaring down. Bones grins raunchily at him, hips rocking in his grasp. 

Lowering his eyelids, Jim goes back in to do it right. He lets the head of Bone’s cock pop into his mouth. He slides as far down as he can, holding Bones’ hips, jaw already sore from stretching so wide. It hits the back of his throat, and he knows he won’t be able to take it down. He wraps his fingers around the rest of Bones’ cock, stroking it.

He doesn’t pull off until he feels Bones’ mouth enclose around his own dick, tight and wet. He can feel Bones’ spongy tongue along his side. Bones doesn’t deep throat him, either. That’s fine. If Jim wanted a porn star, he would’ve stuck upstairs which Chekov. 

He already showed that he can get sex elsewhere. Now he’s showing that he can get a _connection_ elsewhere: an unspoken bond between him and one of the very, very few people in the whole universe that he trusts. They share something unique and special. 

And they’re both hot and horny and ready to fuck. Jim breaks and bobs his head back first, dipping a second later to impale himself again. The faster he goes, the more obscene the slurping noises are, but Jim keeps going. He vigorously sucks and pushes on and off, squeezing and stroking everything he can’t fit in his mouth. 

Down at his crotch, Bones starts doing the same, just tortuously slowly. Somehow, he isn’t making the obnoxious noises Jim is, but it doesn’t matter. It feels fucking awesome. Jim’s lashes flutter in ecstasy as Bones lightly scrapes his teeth along the base, and the only reason Jim isn’t brutally fucking Bones’ face is that Bones is holding his hips back. 

One of those hands shifts a little, more towards Jim’s lower back, which at first, doesn’t matter. Then a stray finger’s slipping down his crack, and Jim pops off to ask what Bones is doing. 

Bones pulls off Jim’s dick to bark before he can say anything, “Get back on my cock right now.”

“What’re you doing?” Jim squirms. The finger’s still idly tracing his crack.

“I’m gonna finger you—‘bout time you had a prostate exam.”

Jim’s not too keen on the idea of anything going inside him. But it’s just a finger. Spock’s never done that. Never tried. On that thought alone, Jim sniggers, “Only ‘cause it’s you, Bones.”

Bones bucks his cock against Jim’s face, sniggering, “Get back on it.”

Jim licks up the side to be a tease, then is back on in a heartbeat. Bones returns the favour, and his finger slips down to Jim’s hole, tracing it idly and jabbing relentlessly at the tight muscles. It feels a little slick, like it got wet at one point, but it’s probably just spit. That’s fine. Jim’s not looking at Spock, but he can _feel_ the dark eyes on him, and that makes him grin around Bones’ girth. 

Bones presses the finger past Jim’s entrance, and Jim moans. The finger pistons in and out of his ass while Bones’ mouth bobs up and down on his cock. It feels strange at first, but he quickly gets used to it, and the overwhelming pleasure around his cock makes up for it. Then Bones finds a certain spot, and Jim _screams_ around his mouthful. He’s sure he can feel Bones’ smirk around him. Bones starts jabbing that spot again and again, making pleasure erupt all down Jim’s spine. The dual sensations are too much to take. He rocks back and forth between them, onto Bones’ finger and into Bones’ mouth, hot and tight on either end. Mostly because he knows he’s close, he sucks all the harder, trying desperately to keep Bones up. Bones has better stamina. Jim slurps down Bones’ cock like his life depends on it. 

He still comes first though, hips jerking, cock pouring into Bones’ mouth, sudden and without any warning. Jim half expects Bones to splutter and pull off angrily, but instead he just _swallows_. The pressure that unleashes feels amazing, and Jim moans louder, humping out his orgasm. 

Bones takes a few more strokes, a few more sucks. But he eventually comes, too, and Jim thanks him by swallowing the hot, sticky load that shoots sloppily down his throat. He makes sure it’s all out before he pulls off, and Bones is already off him. 

For a second, Jim just lies there, awash in the afterglow. Bones seems to be in the same position, and he pulls his finger out and pats Jim’s ass fondly. “You’re a good fuck, darlin’. Always were.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Jim answers slickly. Bones snorts and sits up, tucking himself back into his pants. 

Jim does the same, reaching to the corner for his shirt. Then Bones helps tug it over his head and smooths it out. 

“How’s my prostate?” Jim checks. 

“Seems healthy to me,” Bones grumbles, “but a follow-up might be a good option.”

Jim answers by way of smirk. 

He climbs slowly to his feet and helps Bones up. 

Then he leans in to peck Bones on the cheek, turns around, and marches out the room—which opens easily for him—without saying a word to the Vulcan on the table.

* * *

Jim half expects Spock not to show up for their regular chess game. But he’s delighted when Spock does. 

Spock stands outside of Jim’s quarters, head hung, even though Jim’s half an hour late. Spock doesn’t lift his head when Jim approaches. He’s radiating _rejection_ , and it would be heartbreaking if Jim had much of a heart.

Instead, it’s vaguely adorable, in the sort of sick way that Jim appreciates, and Jim walks right past Spock and into his quarters without saying a word. 

Jim doesn’t say any word of invitation, and so Spock doesn’t follow him in.

After the door’s shut, Jim waits a few seconds. Then he walks to his corner, picks up his trash can, walks back to the door, and it slides open. 

Spock’s already halfway down the hall. Jim barks, “Commander,” and Spock’s back instantly goes rigid, whirling around so fast that his perfect bangs fly out. His face is forcibly flat, but his chest is rising and falling like a man breathing very hard. 

“Yes, Captain?”

“Take this to the disposal for me.” Jim puts the can outside his door and promptly walks back into his room. The doors slide shut again.


	3. Hikaru

It’s a good shift. Spock spends the entire time on his knees, and when he tries to answer an Engineering call, Jim silently locks the turbolifts, refusing to let him leave. The whole point of this is for Jim to enjoy Spock’s pain, and that means that Spock’s going to sit exactly where he belongs—at Jim’s feet—until Jim ordains otherwise. 

His science officer still dutifully works. When they rendezvous with the fleet, Spock attends the diplomatic meeting as though nothing’s wrong. Jim acts as though nothing’s wrong. When the various captains are heading back to their ship, Jim leaves the room without Spock, back to the silent treatment. 

They’re back on the bridge, heading for a pit stop at Risa, Spock back in his place. Sulu sets the course. The day is uneventful, aside from a minor mishap with Lieutenant Darwin that requires an agonizer. At the end of his shift, Sulu’s relieved by Ensign Rondelo. Jim’s eyes follow his Lieutenant’s back, and he gets out of his chair. 

Spock doesn’t follow. Jim pauses to grab a fistful of his hair, jerking it back to growl, “Have you forgotten your place? You’re my first officer and you’ll follow me.”

Spock says, “Yes, Captain,” very smoothly. His eyes are resigned. He gets to his feet, arms crossing behind his back, and he follows into the turbolift like the dog he is. 

Jim hides his smirk.

* * *

Jim finds Sulu in one of the workout rooms, shirtless and already starting to sweat. He has a fencing sword in one hand, practicing various positions. He looks up as soon as Jim enters the room, and he stands at attention at once, arms at his sides. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” Jim purrs. He crosses the room in long, swift steps, reaching Sulu and strolling leisurely around him. Sulu tenses, chin up. “Exercising, are we?”

“Fencing, sir.” The bright ceiling lights wash over Sulu’s tight abs and evident six-pack, highlighting his golden skin. He looks nothing short of scrumptious, and he stands rigidly still as Jim pries the sword from his hand, tossing it lazily across the room. 

It rolls to and stops at Spock’s feet. Spock stands in the doorway. If he were human, he’d be fidgeting awkwardly. Instead, he’s standing stiller than Sulu, poker face on. Like he’s growing used to it. Jim ignores that.

Reaching the Sulu’s front, Jim lets his eyes slowly rake Sulu’s body, appraising every centimeter. As he reaches Sulu’s torso, he lifts his palms to trace the raw outlines of Sulu’s hipbones, prominent and chiseled. Sulu has a sharp intake of breath but doesn’t move. Jim’s fingers slip in to circle each part of the six-pack, pressing in to feel the hard muscle. When he reaches Sulu’s abs, he thumbs Sulu’s brown nipples, drawling, “I never knew you were quite so... _strong_.”

It’s probably not Vulcan strength, but it’ll do. And Jim will play it off like it is. He can see Spock out the corner of his eye, trying not to react. A tiny smile twitches on Sulu’s lips. He’s looking blankly over Jim’s shoulder: a soldier still at attention. “Thank you, Captain.”

“At ease,” Jim chuckles. Sulu visibly relaxes. Jim’s still tracing his broad shoulders and continues, “Look at all these muscles... you must work out quite a bit. I admire strength in my officers, you know. Power. You certainly appear at the top of your game...”

“I am, Captain.” Sulu’s definitely smirking now. He’s swelling with pride at his captain’s praise. “I’ve bested several of my fellow officers in various forms of hand to hand combat.” ...But never Spock, most likely, although Jim still acts like of the two of them, Sulu's more noteworthy in terms of brute force.

“Of course you have. And I’m sure you looked quite good doing it.” Another straying look, and then Jim unceremoniously smashes his lips into Sulu’s, earning him a surprised sound, only to shove Sulu away a moment later. Caught off guard, Sulu stumbles a few steps back. “Come at me with all that superior strength of yours,” Jim purrs. He licks his lips in invitation. 

There are a couple different looks that flicker over Sulu’s face. Surprise, distrust, and then a rush of interest, followed by unbridled lust. Not many officers are given a go at the illustrious Captain Kirk—he only takes the best. Sulu sucks in a breath. 

Then he lunges at Jim, swerving the second Jim dodges, grabbing Jim’s shirt and yanking him in. Jim plays hard to get. He lets Sulu kiss him for about half a second, and then he headbutts Sulu hard. Sulu grunts in pain, and Jim uses that chance to try and kick him in the shin. Sulu swivels out of the way and swipes his foot under Jim, knocking Jim to the padded floor, littered in mats for various exercises and practice. Jim tries to climb back to his feet, but Sulu’s on him in a flash, pinning him to the floor. Sulu grabs his wrists and straddles his waist, feet hooked over his legs, holding everything down. Jim tries to throw him off, but Sulu’s grip is surprisingly firm, his weight surprisingly steady. Jim could probably break free if he put in everything he had, but he doesn’t. (Because Spock's watching, and Spock should know what prowess other officers have.)

Instead, he smirks up at his lieutenant with a sense of pride. Sulu hovers over him, as if waiting for permission to claim his prize. “What’re you waiting for? I said I picked you for your strength—use it.”

Sulu lunges down and bites Jim’s lip, hard. Jim gasps, and Sulu uses that opportunity to shove his tongue inside, exploring around. Jim kisses back just as hungrily, drinking in the tangy taste on the roof of Sulu’s mouth, and then he jerks one leg free and knees Sulu in the stomach, pushing him off. Sulu goes with a snarl of pain, and he bites Jim’s lip again on the way out, splitting it and leaving a trail of blood. 

Jim lifts a finger to his lip to check, tongue tracing the copper. Sulu waits one second, probably to see if he has to apologize. 

Jim uses that moment to his advantage, rolling onto Sulu and grinding his hips down. Sulu’s hard as a rock beneath him, and the sizable bulge is straining against his pants hard enough to break the seams. It’ll do that if they don’t hurry up. 

Holding down Sulu’s legs with his thighs, Jim lets his fingers slip into Sulu’s. That way it’s like they’re wrestling, hands pushing against each other, and for a minute, it looks like Sulu’ll throw him off again. 

Then Jim slams Sulu’s hands down, bringing their lips back together. He bites Sulu’s bottom lip solely for revenge, and they make out through the blood that slips between them, all tongues, fighting for dominance. Sulu kisses like he’s trying to fuck Jim’s mouth with his tongue, and that’s about what it feels like. Jim’s grinding his hard dick into Sulu’s through all the fabric. It’s too good. Then Sulu headbutts him suddenly, hands slipping free in the confusion. One hand shoots to Jim’s neck, shoving him brutally up, and the other yanks Jim’s fly open. Sulu darts out from under him and is circling around. 

Jim’s not going to be mounted like a dog. He rolls onto his stomach at the last second and kicks Sulu hard in the leg, sending him crashing down to the floor next to Jim. Jim scrambles around to mount Sulu first, and when Sulu tries to throw him off, Jim grabs a chunk of black hair and slams it into the padded floor. His cock’s already straining at his underwear through his open fly, and he uses his other hand to free it. 

Then he’s shoving Sulu’s pants down, and he spits a wad of saliva and blood into his hand. 

He uses it to spread Sulu’s taut cheeks and rub into Sulu’s hole. Sulu’s ass is nice and tight, not a bit of fat anywhere. Quite a bit different than Chekov’s round butt or Bones’ grizzled cheeks, but Jim likes a bit of variety on occasion. Well, something in between that covers all bases would be nice, but right now, he’s working all with fractions. 

He shoves his finger into Sulu’s hole without much warning, and Sulu grunts beneath him, head still held down, cheek to the floor. It’s a lovely sight, really: a man so powerful willingly submitting to him. He knows Sulu could fight more, but Sulu doesn’t, and his face betrays that it’s not just fear of Jim’s rank. He lets Jim finger his tight hole, first with one finger, then two. Jim doesn’t bother getting it perfectly stretched or adequately wet. This is supposed to be rough, and he knows Sulu can take it. 

Sulu just grunts again when Jim presses his cock up to it, watching the dark hole twitch against him. After a minute of pure admiration, Jim shoves brutally inside. 

Sulu doesn’t scream. He just grits his teeth, face scrunching up, as Jim’s cock slides all in at once, splitting the tight walls and probably tearing. Well, that’s what Bones is for. Sulu’ll be fine. He takes it like that. He doesn’t complain, even when Jim gets balls deep, wriggling his hips for good measure. 

A good sigh. Fuck _yes_. Sulu obviously isn’t used to bottoming; he’s tight as hell and twitches self-consciously. Jim pulls out and slams back in, and then he thinks: fuck it. He slams in so hard that he knocks Sulu’s hips down, right into the floor, and then he starts thrusting in wildly, pounding into Sulu with bruising force. Sulu hisses through his teeth and screams at a particularly harsh stab. Jim holds Sulu’s arms down and presses his head against the back of Sulu’s, hips wild and at their own pace. Hard and horrible, ravaging Sulu’s young body. He wants to _tear Sulu apart._ He hasn’t had sex this rough in a long time. He fucks and he fucks with zero regard for anything but his own pleasure and swears under his breath.

“Ugh... fuck yeah...” Sulu groans. His hips try to press up into Jim’s cock, but Jim just fucks them back down again. Sulu’s back is tight with muscle and moist with sweat, and it feels perfect underneath Jim’s stomach. He knocks Sulu’s head more to the side so he can bite Sulu’s cheek, and then he lifts his head up to spit on it. Sulu winces but takes it. Jim grins nastily to himself. Perfect. 

Once, Sulu tries to lift up again, but Jim slams him back down by the hair. Jim doesn’t switch positions, he doesn’t roll them over, he doesn’t care about Sulu’s cock and he doesn’t care what angle he’s hitting. He’s fucking hard and fast until the pleasure’s tightening his stomach and his balls, and then he roars like the beast he is, pummeling it all out. Sulu’s literally gasping with each thrust as Jim fucks out his orgasm, mixing his seed with the blood and spit already buried inside Sulu. His hips only get faster as the cum pours out. He goes right on, and Sulu clenches his ass in challenge. 

When it’s all out, Jim doesn’t collapse. He’s satiated, but he doesn’t still. He’s panting, he pulls out of Sulu’s ass, he climbs off, and he gets to his feet. He tucks himself back into his pants and reaches down with a hand outstretched; something he wouldn’t do if it weren’t for Spock in the doorway. 

Spock in the doorway. 

Jim didn’t look over the entire time. 

Jim helps Sulu to his feet and grunts, “Thanks for the fuck.”

Sulu chuckles, “Any time, Captain.” His lip’s still bleeding, and his hair’s a mess from being tugged. But his eyes are on fire, fists clenched and chest heavily rising and falling. He’s not a Vulcan. But he’s still got spunk and muscle and challenge, and he could give Jim a run for his money, if Jim wanted a fight.

Jim nods and strolls towards the door, feeling too hot in his uniform. As he passes, Spock says levelly, “Captain, I am trained in—”

Whatever it is, Jim doesn’t hear it; he’s already out the door.

* * *

“Good fencer,” Jim comments cruelly, sideways at his companion in the turbolift. Spock says nothing. “Did you see those muscles? You could crack a walnut on those pecs.”

If Jim didn’t know better, he’d say Spock was fuming. Or crying inside. He’s standing, stiff as a board, with his hands behind his back and his blank face fixed forward. It’s as though he’s had his soul ripped out of him. He’s being punished for a crime over and over, a crime which he doesn’t recall committing. But he’s not dumb enough to try and ask again.

A girl strolls into the turbolift with a particularly short blue dress, and when she turns around to state her destination, Jim slaps her ass. The Ensign looks over her shoulder and smiles. 

Jim smiles back. That’s more than he does for Spock anymore, but Spock doesn’t leave the turbolift until Jim does.

* * *

Jim’s in his room reading the classic ‘ _My Pet Vulcan_ ’ on the console on his desk when the door chimes. Curious as to who would dare, Jim calls to the door, “Come in.”

The doors slide open. Spock strolls inside. Jim turns his swiveling chair to the side, away from the computer. To the naked eye, nothing’s wrong, but to someone who’s known Spock as long as Jim has, Spock’s subtly trembling. He marches right up to Jim, falls to his knees, and nuzzles his face into Jim’s crotch before Jim can say a word. His eyes close in obvious pain, and he murmurs into Jim’s lap, “Please, Captain. I beg you to give me a second chance. I do not know what I have done, but I would do anything to—”

“Shut up,” Jim drawls. Spock closes his mouth at once, and he looks up at Jim with black, heartbroken eyes. For a minute, it’s enough to actually start getting to Jim...

But then his communicator beeps, and he pulls it out of his back pocket, flipping it open. “Captain, I cannae guarantee this shuttles goin’ to get tha’ cargo of yours to the planet; yeh better come down here and pick what yeh wanna take.”

“Understood, Scotty. I’ll be there.”

Snapping his communicator shut and shoving it back into his pocket, Jim pushes Spock back and climbs out of his chair. He gets to the door before he turns around, waiting. 

Spock stands slowly back up, drudging after him.


	4. Montgomery

There’s a bit of rearranging things and a lot of sorting. Negotiations will have to be opened back up, or the very twitchy and demanding populous of Orion will have to be patient enough for two trips. Unless, of course, they lower that stupid force field and allow proper beaming, but then, Orion is always a difficult planet to handle.

Which is a shame, seeing as how they tend to sell rather lovely... goods.

On the turbolift ride down, Jim smoothly comments, “Since Vulcan’s demise, you’re considered an endangered species.”

Spock makes no comment. 

Jim blatantly surveys Spock from head to foot, feigning disappointment and sighing, “I suppose you’d fetch a decent price.”

The turbolift doors open to Engineering. It’s a well-known fact that slaves are the biggest trading commodities on Orion. If Jim didn’t know better, he’d say his favourite pet was experiencing... panic.

Spock doesn’t show it, of course. There are slight circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and the pain in his dark irises is clear as day. But his frown is no deeper than usual. His eyebrows don’t knit together and he doesn’t cry. 

It looks like he could at any point, but he doesn’t.

Simultaneously laughing inside and feeling... odd, Jim strolls out the door, Spock behind him.

* * *

Scotty’s a genius. Naturally, or he wouldn’t be Jim’s chief Engineer. He manages to fit far more cargo on the shuttle than Jim would’ve thought possible, and he boasts about his new transwarp beaming theory here and there throughout the process. He’s rigged up anti-grav devices so thin they can fit between the handles of crates, and everything’s loaded in no time. 

And Jim wouldn’t be listening to all the transwarp physics nonsense Scotty’s going on about, except that it’s one more thing to hold over Spock’s head. The two of them tuck into Scotty’s little office on the side, crowded full of machinery and opened boxes. He plugs his report and all of Jim’s requests into the computer, chatting animatedly about how, if they had the proper time and resources, he could probably break through Orion’s shields.

Jim breaks through to nod approvingly. “Scotty, you really are ingenious.” He shuts the door with one hand and brushes over to his Lieutenant Commander, right past Spock. There’s such a small space in the office that they’re all almost touching, trapped between the long wall-desk and open boxes on the other side of that, and when Scotty turns around, he’s clearly taken aback at just how close Jim really is. Three more centimeters and their noses would bump.

“Thank yeh, Captain. I do my best.” There’s a definite pride in his voice. 

Jim takes one more step, pressing Scotty back into the computer. “Your best happens to be pretty damn smart. I don’t think I’ve got a smarter man on this ship.”

Scotty’s eyebrows rise. His lips twitch into a smirk. Jim’s too close for comfort, but praising Scotty seems to win out over that. “Other than yerself, I wouldn’ doubt, Captain.”

It’s Jim’s turn to smirk. He’s an intelligent man, of course. He made it through the Academy in record time, but he’s certain Spock’s still got a fair few IQ points on him. Spock’s silent in the corner, while Jim continues, “And you’re such a good soldier. I don’t think I’ve ever once heard you call me anything but ‘Captain.’ I admire a man with a strong sense of duty. Add onto that a huge helping of intelligence... I’ve got quite the package in you.”

“Happy to serve,” Scotty insists, his hands lifting, probably to instinctively cross over his chest, until he realizes there’s not enough space between them for that. 

“You would be, wouldn’t you, Mr. Scott?”

“Captain?”

“Happy to serve,” Jim repeats, with that inclination in his voice that can leave no room to misunderstand. “You’d follow any of my orders, do anything for me...”

The confidence is slipping out of Scotty’s face, but he still says, “Of course.”

Jim holds Scotty’s gaze. His hands reach for Scotty’s wrists, and Scotty looks down to watch as Jim presses those calloused, hard working hands against his crotch, bucking into them. Scotty lips part, but he doesn’t pull away, just sort of _stares_ in clear surprise. “These are the talented hands that are always putting my ship back together,” Jim purrs, leaning in a little. “You can do amazing things with these hands, when you put your mind to it, like you’re going to now...”

That seems to prove to Scotty it’s real. Shivering slightly, Scotty breathes, “Yes, Captain,” and Jim’s fingers slip away. 

Jim turns a little, so that his back’s against the table at the wall, and Scotty has to shift over with them. The point of this is so that Jim’s back isn’t blocking Spock’s view. Even though Spock is stubbornly staring blankly away from them, Jim knows that he fills Spock’s peripherals. That he fills Spock’s ears. That Spock can smell the arousal in the air—Jim’s cock getting hard because he’s _thinking of Spock_. But Spock won’t know that, and he’s forced to stand rigidly still as Scotty brings down Jim’s fly, reaching inside Jim’s pants to wrap around his cock, firm and steady. Jim fully expects Scotty to have _very_ talented hands, and he isn’t disappointed. 

Scotty licks his lips and opens them like he’s going to say something, but nothing comes out. He stares, glassy-eyed, down at Jim’s cock, and he tentatively draws his fingers up, squeezing slightly. Jim grunts in approval, and Scotty goes a little faster. His other hand slips lower to cup Jim’s balls. He looks a little hesitant: like he’s terrified to screw up. He probably never thought he had a chance at Jim, who has younger, hotter, easier crew all over his bridge. Jim really doesn’t think that’s going to be a problem. He’s already turning _very_ stiff in Scotty’s hands. Scotty pumps him faster and faster, playing lightly with and tugging at his balls, and Jim lets his head loll back, hands leaning against the countertop. 

He can feel Spock’s gaze on him, subtle and sideways, and Jim makes a show of elongating his neck, licking his lower lip and biting it, closing his eyes and letting his lashes brush his cheeks. He knows he’s good looking. He knows Spock can’t resist him. He knows Scotty’s enjoying touching the captain’s cock, and his hands only speed up. He pumps Jim hard and dry. Jim enjoys the burn. He enjoys the way Scotty squeezes his balls lightly and thumbs the head of his cock, teasing the slit. A bit of precum drizzles out, and Scotty spreads it like lube. He keeps going in a methodical, rough rhythm, and it takes everything Jim has to let Scotty finish him off, rather than turning suddenly and marking Spock with his release. 

He does finish in Scotty’s hand, groaning appreciatively and slumping forward, pulling Scotty close. Scotty leans in to it like he’s honoured, pleasuring Jim right through the orgasm, right to the last drop.

When he’s done, Scotty pulls off and wipes his hand on his chest, smearing his red shirt. Jim pants, “Tuck me back in.”

Scotty does with a nod and a, “Yes, Captain.”

Jim pats Scotty’s cheek, chuckling, “Good man.”

Scotty grins. 

Jim turns to Spock and comments, “Brilliant mind and talented hands—couldn’t ask for anything more, could I?”

The look Spock turns on him is so full of _longing_ that Jim thinks he might turn to stone from the intensity.

* * *

They reach Orion in the morning. The shuttle will go down that night—Orion’s at its most alive at night. Jim spends the first ten minutes of his shift punching up orders, and then he calls security to the bridge. He hands a PADD to Lieutenant Hendorff, gestures down at Spock, still sitting at his feet, and drawls lazily, “Have him outfitted properly for Orion.”

Spock’s dark eyes instantly dart to him, and Jim’s whole face twists with his smirk. “Didn’t I say you’d make a decent slave?” Then Jim waves dismissively, turning back to the view screen. 

Out the corner of his eye, he can see Spock’s mouth open. Spock’s breathing very, very heavily. Eyebrows finally knit together. He’s _staring_ at Jim, and doesn’t look away while the security officers grab his arms. 

He’s shaking. 

They pull him off the bridge, his eyes on Jim the whole time. Jim steeples his fingers and rests his chin on them, hoping Spock behaves.


	5. Spock

They insult him with the barrier. Jim isn’t going to go down to the planet. He sends a small landing part with Sulu in charge and permission to use Chekov if necessary—not for a permanent sell, of course, but a few favours might earn the Empire a little extra latinum. He sees them off, and he heads for his quarters, fighting the urge to _run_.

As soon as he’s passed the sliding doors, he steps out of his boots, pulling his shirt over his head to save time. He leaves his pants on for a show of power, but the rest he wants ready to go. He’s not sure how long he’s going to be able to last. He’s already hard at just the thought of it, and the sight in his bedroom doesn’t disappoint. 

Spock’s kneeling on the floor in front of his bed, completely stripped and naked. His neck is fitted with a tight collar, and a metal chain connects that collar to the bedpost. His hands are cuffed firmly behind his back. His lips are stretched around a glossy, blue ball gag, and his eyes are covered in a leather blindfold. Jim smirks to himself and wonders if Spock thinks he’s in the cargo bay. 

Strolling forward, Jim bends to slip a finger under Spock’s chin. Spock half jerks away, then stops abruptly, still held in place. His muscles slowly shift—relaxing, then stiffening again. Jim’s grin broadens. 

Spock recognizes his touch. “Such a good pet,” Jim purrs quietly. “You know the hand of your master.” Jim lifts Spock’s chin up and dives his fingers into Spock’s hair to untie the blindfold. It slips off, and Jim tosses aside. Blinking in the sudden light, Spock’s eyes are wide and beautiful. 

Spock’s all beautiful, all over, and Jim spends a significant amount of time just admiring that. Spock’s smooth skin, pale and yellow-green in places, nipples a rosy brown and his torso nice and lithe, soft muscles and a black trail down to his cock. It twitches once as Jim looks at it, like it’s trying to jump up towards Jim’s hands. 

Jim presses a slow, lingering kiss to Spock’s forehead. Then it’s time to get rid of the ball-gag, which has left his pretty lips a little swollen, bowed as always and pink, moist and ready. They stay a little parted, and Jim restrains himself. It’s hard not to dive straight in. 

He bends down behind Spock and undoes the handcuffs, placing them on the floor behind himself. He’s leaves the collar and chain for the hell of it, but the rest isn’t necessary. He knows Spock will behave. His hand slips back around Spock’s face, holding his jaw and lightly thumbing his chin. 

Spock says tentatively, voice trying to be level but cracking, “Captain...” and then he stops, as though expecting Jim to order him to be silent again. 

Jim waits for Spock to go on. Eventually, he does. “Jim.” Spock gulps. “I do not... I still do not know what I have done, but... but I...” He’s trying _so hard_ to be Vulcan, but his voice breaks with the sheer _emotion_ in his eyes. He doubles over suddenly, bangs brushing Jim’s chest on the way down, and Spock presses his fingers and forehead to the floor, bowing. “Please, I will do anything you wish; I only want to serve and please you. I will do everything you ask. If you afford me a second chance, I will prove to you that I should not be sold, I will—”

“You will not be sold,” Jim finishes for him. Spock’s shoulder tense, and his face lifts hesitantly off the floor. Jim reaches underneath him to pat his chest, and he slowly sits back up, carefully searching Jim’s eyes. “You were outfitted to suit the occasion; you know I do so enjoy the Orion aesthetic. But in all practicality, you’re already a slave.”

Jim suddenly hooks his finger in Spock’s collar, jerking him forward. Pressing his nose into Spock’s, Jim hisses low and fierce, “You’re _mine._ ”

There are no words for the emotion that boils up in Spock’s eyes. They grow wet around the edges, and Spock doesn’t even try to restrain them. He’s trembling. 

Jim kisses him sweetly for barely a second, then pulls back. Spock tries to follow him, but Jim presses his forehead to Spock’s to hold him back, smiling. “Shh, none of that,” he whispers. “You’ll listen first.”

Spock gulps and nods subserviently. Jim keeps their foreheads together, messing up Spock’s bangs, because everything’s better when they’re touching. He can feel the spark of Spock’s _want_ beneath his skin and knows that Spock can feel the same. Jim wasn’t going to explain. But he finds himself offering, “I’m the one that’s misbehaved. I wanted to test you, in a way. Make you needy and hungry for me, in another. I’ve been neglecting you for the past few days. I want to make you see what you do to me.”

“ _Jim_ ,” Spock breathes. His eyes shut, chest breathing quickly. It’s like he’s whimpering without uttering a sound. His nostrils are straining to take in air, eyes beaded with water. 

“I thought of you on every one of them. Why do you think I made you watch? It’s you I was hard for, though I wouldn’t let you have it... I wanted you to _want_ so badly you couldn’t stand it...”

“I thought I would go mad,” Spock whispers, eyes still closed. He has such pretty lashes, long and dark. The need in his voice is evident. His fingers shift in the carpet towards Jim’s knees, and Jim helps them slide up his thighs. Spock’s fingers splay and rub deliberately up and down his legs, slow and steady. He licks his lips and whimpers, “Captain, I want to be yours so badly...”

“You _are_ mine,” Jim repeats. “Mine, mine, _mine._ ” He shifts his head to growl into Spock’s beautifully pointed ear, “You have always been exclusively mine, and you always will be. Know that. You are my _everything._ ”

Spock shakes his head like he doesn’t believe it. Before he can bring up the others, Jim goes on, “You are everything to me. And you knew when you became that what I am. I don’t keep a position as the head of the Empire’s flagship by being kind and cuddly. The others were pawns to hurt you, because you’re _mine_ , and I like to play rough with my toys.” Jim pauses to slide his free hand down Spock’s chest, ghosting over Spock’s nipples and tracing every angle and curve—his hands have missed this. “The others have talents, yes. All my men have things to offer me. But they’re just fractions of what I need. You... you, my darling Mr. Spock, are everything I could ever want all in one.”

Jim pulls back to kiss the bridge of Spock’s nose, chaste and fleeting. “You’re the most intelligent man on my ship, and you only use that knowledge to serve me.” Jim ducks a little lower to peck Spock’s chin, lips lingering longer than he needs to. “You’re the strongest man at my disposal, but you always know when I’ve defeated you...” This time Jim has to tilt Spock’s chin back up to duck beneath it, pressing his mouth to Spock’s collarbone. “You and I have a connection that cannot be denied. You’re the closest to me, and I’m the closest to you, and there’s not a soul on this ship that doesn’t know that.” The last kiss isn’t in the straight line. It’s off to the side, right above Spock’s heart. It’s hard for Jim to tear himself away, but when he does, he purrs, “You’re the sexiest man I know. Wonderful and obedient and handsome, and _gorgeous._ ”

Spock’s trembling beneath his fingertips. Jim touches everything. He wraps his arms around Spock’s body to finally lean in, pressing their lips together. 

Spock’s on him in a heartbeat, ferocious and falling apart, lips smashed against Jim’s and tongue begging for access. Jim opens his lips to slide his own out, meeting Spock’s and wrestling it, their tongues fighting between hem, sucked between their lips and back out again, and Jim tilts this way and that, making out like teenagers. He feels young and _alive_. He kisses Spock with everything he has. Spock’s fingers trail up Jim’s back and hold him in crushingly close. Through his pants, Jim can feel the hard cock straining against him, and Spock’s hips start to grind into Jim’s, their bare chests rubbing sensually together. It’s so hard to pull away, and Spock’s going and panting, chest rising rapidly and falling, like they’ll never need air. Jim has to grab Spock by the neck, clutching the collar to shove him back. 

Spock’s eyes are _burning_. “You’re still loyal to me, then,” Jim chuckles.

Spock rasps, voice deep and dripping with desire, “I am yours, Jim Kirk. I have always been yours, and I hope with everything I am that I will always be yours. I never wanted anything else, not for a second.”

“Even though you thought I might sell you?” Jim laughs. 

Spock nods. “I would have spent my life longing for you, thinking only of you and resisting my buyer’s touch. I would’ve been killed for it, but I would not have _anyone_ but you. I would have spent the small remainder of my life wishing for your return, and I would not hesitate to follow should you ever take me back.”

There’s something in Jim’s chest that tightens, something that he wants to ignore. Spock’s eyes are boring holes into him, sincere and full of utter adoration. The gravity in his voice isn’t lost on Jim. Jim can only breathe, “I would never have sold you.” He cups Spock’s cheek again, and Spock clutches his hand, nuzzling into it. Jim turns him back to connect their eyes, so he can insist, “I would never, ever do that.” His fingers slip out of Spock’s grasp. 

The collar was hot. So hot. The chain to Jim’s bed was a symbol. But now... they’re just in the way. Jim unclips it and pushes it off, the metal tumbling down Spock’s back. Jim runs his fingers along Spock’s smooth neck, and Spock holds onto two of his fingers, lifting them up to kiss them. 

Jim climbs to his feet, holding out his hands. Spock takes them, standing up, posture perfect, fingers clinging just a little too tightly to Jim’s hands. They pace around to the side of the bed, and Jim lightly pushes Spock onto it, onto his back, lengthwise down the blankets, head in the pillows. Spock breathes as Jim climbs over him, “You are going to take me...?”

“You’re mine to take,” Jim purrs, kissing him quiet again. 

In that moment, Spock isn’t Vulcan. He breaks into such a desperate, thankful smile that Jim’s stomach hurts. It’s convulsing and fluttering, and he both hates and loves that he feels that way, so full of...

He lets Spock unzip his pants and scrunch them down Jim’s hips, and he wriggles out of them and pulls them off, tossing them to the floor. No underwear today. He knew this was coming and didn’t want anything between them. Spock eyes him and touches him, all down his bare thighs and around his cock. Spock’s fingers still before the shaft itself, and his eyes flicker up. 

“Don’t ask permission tonight,” Jim chuckles. “I know you’re scared after what I’ve put you through, but you can do no wrong with me.” Smirking, Jim adds, thinking only distantly of Bones, “You can trust our connection.” The strongest connection he’s ever had with anyone.

It’s a testament to Spock’s need that he doesn’t correct Jim’s accusation of fear. He merely nods, and he surges back up to kiss Jim hard. Jim grinds back down to help, Spock’s hands all over his cock, tugging and teasing. Jim’s own digits are probing all over Spock’s body, running down Spock’s long dick and earning him a moan into his mouth. Not wanting to let go, he slips his fingers up to Spock’s lips while still making out. He scatters kisses all over the rest of Spock’s face and the side of Spock’s lips while he pistons his fingers in and out, and Spock lathers them up. Then they’re gone again, and it’s back to tongue on tongue.

Spock’s legs are already parted for him. Jim holds Spock’s cock up with one hand and rubs the sensitive skin below with the other. On a whim, he trails his kisses lower, leaving Spock’s lips and pushing Spock down, pinning him to the bed, licking and nipping and sucking a sloppy, wet trail straight down his throat, his chest, his stomach. Jim wants to taste every centimeter Spock has to offer, and he dips his tongue into Spock’s bellybutton, probing and mapping. He kisses down Spock’s taught belly to his jutting cock, and Jim presses his lips to the shaft once before he’s going down again. Spock holds his legs helpfully wide, obviously trying hard not to make all the noises he clearly wants to. 

That’ll change. Jim’s worked so hard the past few days to break down every one of Spock’s defenses, and this has been a long time in the making. He takes a minute to admire Spock’s tiny, puckered hole. Then he kisses it with just a little bit of suction, and Spock makes the most erotic noise Jim’s ever heard. 

Everything Spock does is the most sensual it could be. He was _born_ to lie under Jim, to take Jim’s cock and Jim’s love. He’s a pedestal for Jim to stand on and arms for Jim to fall into. He has spectacular control and doesn’t buck his hips, even when Jim presses a prying tongue inside him. 

It takes a few presses to pop into the tight hole. Spock has a sharp intake of breath when it does. Jim does another good suck and has a good taste, squirming the tip around. He pulls it out and slides it back in, just marginally further. Out and in again, and he rubs his spit-covered fingers around the furrowed muscles at the brim, trying to get them nice and loose. After how long it’s taken him to get here, Jim isn’t about to hurt his precious Vulcan. He has a whole other crew for that, and Spock’s his prize possession. Jim tries to take care of his things.

Jim gets his tongue in as far as it’ll go, making Spock moan and twist beneath him. When he pulls out, he presses his finger in, and soon he has two fingers spreading Spock deliciously open. Jim rests his head on Spock’s thigh and happily watches that tight hole yield to his will, wider and bigger and wetter. Jim stops after three fingers, and he keeps those fingers inside while he kisses his way back up, stopping to lavish each of Spock’s nipples. He rubs them with his tongue and tugs them with his teeth, until they’re pebbled, and then he sucks on them for good measure. 

He’s going to worship everything about his toy, his pet, his first officer, his _Spock_. Spock’s lips are open and waiting, just where he left them. 

Spock helps line Jim’s cock up as much as possible, hiking his own hips up Jim’s thighs, legs wide around Jim’s body. Looming over Spock, Jim purrs, “Are you ready?”

Without missing a beat, Spock says, “I am always ready for you, Captain.”

Jim slams inside.

How he manages to go in slowly, Jim has no idea. The second he’s passed Spock’s entrance, its twitching, tight walls close in around him, exploding in pleasure and pressure, ricocheting deliciously up Jim’s entire body. Spock’s face turns to the side, screwed up in a raunchy gasp, swollen lips wide and lashes on his cheeks. Jim kisses his high cheekbones and jaw line, nipping at the shell of his ear and running hard teeth up it. Jim _loves_ those ears. On his ship, only his Spock has them. There’s so many things that only his Spock has, but mostly it’s things that can’t be explained, some invisible force that ties them so strongly together. Jim doesn’t feel right when Spock’s not by his side. Jim sinks himself balls-deep in Spock’s amazing, tight, hot ass, and he whispers in Spock’s ear, “It’s just you, me, and this ship. That’s all it ever is. When I have to take this ship, I always take you, because all I need is _you_.”

Spock’s trembling again. The corners of his eyes are wet. The tops of his cheeks are wet. His teeth are grit together. His body is full of tension and spasms, his ass working around Jim, and Jim pulls out to the head, slowly sliding back. He rocks himself in and out at a torturously quiet pace, fucking Spock long and right. Just for good measure, Jim adds, tongue running along the tip of one perfect ear, “Be good. Don’t come yet. I want this to _last_.” And Jim doesn’t touch Spock because of it, even though his hands are itching to. 

His hands trace all over Spock’s body instead. His warm sides, his thin waist. His long arms, his long neck, his soft hair. Spock’s hands are on Jim’s shoulders. Jim pulls them away by the wrist, and Spock, strong Spock, goes like a paper doll. Jim lays Spock’s hands on the mattress and locks their fingers together. 

He nudges Spock’s head straight again with his forehead, and he leans in halfway. Spock leans in the rest. They're kissing again, hips slow and perfect. Grinding gently, steady and methodical and heavenly, like bliss on a slow burn. Jim’s skin is crawling with pleasure, and everything feels luxurious and golden. Sex fit for a king. Spock’s fit for only a god. Jim fucks him like one. It’s drawn out, and it should last forever, but there’s something that’s pressing at Jim, overwhelming, and he doesn’t know how long he can last. 

He’s sure Spock’s close too, and he’s not about to let Spock go yet. He’s nearly at the edge when he stops, and Spock moans, fingers tensing against him, palms straining up. Spock’s hips lift, his head tilts, kissing Jim more desperately. Jim pulls up, hands sliding away from Spock’s to splay on Spock’s chest, holding him down. Then Jim pulls out of Spock’s body, and it’s hard because Spock’s so _tight_ , and he wants to be in Spock _so badly._

But he’s hurt his Spock, and he’s going to make up for that. Every moment up to this was worth it, but this isn’t the time for his cruelty. 

He moves to straddle Spock’s waist and stretches his legs a little wider, reaching for his own hole, pressing a finger against it. Then he pulls back, spits in his palm, and goes back down again. He prepared himself earlier before coming, but he’s closed up a little. He sticks first one, then a second finger inside, ignoring the sting. There’s all different ways Jim likes sex, but rough is always an option. He fingers himself until he’s acceptably wide, and then he hovers over Spock’s hard cock, picking it up. 

Spock breathes, “Captain...”

“You earned this,” Jim says. And he drops himself right onto Spock, gasping on entry. Spock moans for all he’s worth, throwing back his head, hands shooting for Jim’s hips. Jim sinks down as far as he can, and then he lets gravity do the rest. Spock’s very long, and when Jim wriggles his hips, he eventually hits the right spot. He squirms on Spock’s dick and rubs that spot over and over again, hanging his head to groan loudly. 

Spock’s holding him desperately, looking at him desperately, hard as a rock and flushed green in all the right places. Jim stares at his heady eyes and slowly lifts up. Jim keeps his hands on Spock’s chest, knees gripping Spock’s side, picking himself up, and he drops back down. Impaled again. He gasps again. Spock moans and rolls his hips up, and Jim starts to bounce up and down rhythmically, flouting the burn. He impales himself over and over again on Spock’s thick cock, filling him so wondrously. He leans a bit lower while he fucks himself, so he can whisper, “I’d never let anyone else fuck me. I’ve let them look. And I’ve let them touch. I’ve let them suck me and service me and open their pretty holes, but you’re the only one who’s cock I care about, and you’re the only one that can _have me._ ”

Spock’s sore eyes flicker into fever, and the next thing Jim knows, he’s being rolled over in the mattress. He’s thrown on his back, still impaled to the hilt, and Spock’s looming over him, their positions reversed. Spock flattens his whole body into Jim, casting Jim in shadow, and he grabs Jim’s cock between them as he grinds them together. He kisses Jim _hard_. He fucks Jim brutal and perfect, slow but harsh. His powerful hips give it all. Vulcan fingers are known for their talent. Jim can feel Spock’s two fingers together, running over his shaft. Spock’s other hand slips into Jim’s hair, holding his head in and threading between the blond strands, holding them together, like it should be. 

It’s too much. It’s _too much_ , having Spock with him, on him, in him, the memory of Spock still all over his dick and the taste all over his tongue. They’re kissing so fiercely that Jim doesn’t have room to scream, but he slips his hands from Spock’s back to his neck when it’s over. He grabs a chunk of black hair and pulls Spock’s head just up enough to hiss, “ _I love you._ ”

Jim’s already coming. He’s arching and he’s exploding, white behind his eyes and pleasure in his veins. Spock bursts inside him barely a second later, growling and gasping and moaning, “Jim, Jim, _Jim_ ,” over and over again. The steady mantra keeps up as he fills Jim up with cum. Jim’s painted both their stomachs. Spock grinds it in and grinds it in, until he’s got nothing left.

He looks at Jim, breathing too heard and irises swallowed by his pupils, and he manages brokenly, “I love you _so_ much.” And it’s blasphemy on Vulcan, and it looks like it hurts to say it, is against everything in his being, but he _means it_. 

Jim smiles and wraps his arms tight around Spock, pulling him back down. 

Spock slips out and collapses atop him, snuggling into the side of his face. Horrible though it is, Jim smiles at the movement—he knows Spock wouldn’t have cuddled him before. 

“I don’t care if you’re Vulcan, you won’t have any walls with me,” Jim sighs. 

Spock nods. Just nods. He’s still holding Jim around the waist.

And Jim hates to push away, but now that his skin’s stopped burning quite so hot and the adrenaline’s trickling back down and the sweat’s getting cold, Jim wants under the blankets. He gently pushes Spock off, and Spock obediently rolls to the side. Sitting up, Jim climbs to the headboard and slips below the covers, holding them up and nodding over. Lit up, Spock joins him. 

“Cuddle up close, Commander, because as soon as my brains come back I’m going to fuck yours out again.”

“Understood, Captain.”

Jim grins and throws an arm around Spock, under the blankets, pulling him up close. Jim barks, “Lights!”

And they’re plunged into darkness, just the two of them in the world.


End file.
